My Red Rose
by Mjumju
Summary: A little sad story about Harry and Tom. Based on Robert Burns poem 'My love is like a red, red rose.' "pleas, tell me if somthing is writhed wrong."


My red rose. My red love.  
The sun shone on the water in the big garden. The wind made the few pink  
flowers on the trees fly away. Some of them landed in the water, where the  
fish swam up to see if it was something to eat. Ducks landed on the water and  
looked at a couple that was standing on the shore, but when they didn't see  
something to eat, they just swam away. The couple was two young men. The  
youngest of them sat down, and the older man followed him with his eyes.

"Tom is this necessary?" The youngest said. His nose was dripping with  
sadness.  
"Yes." Tom said, and laid his hand on his shoulder. "A war is breaking  
loose, and I will fight for my land. And you will wait for me, Harry?"  
He didn't answer. His short black hair was flying in the wind and some of  
the flowers were stuck in it. Tom took some of them out, but his hand was  
slapped away. He sighed. Close by, was a little bush where roses were in full  
bloom. He picked one and gave to Harry.  
"Here, my love. As proof of my love, I give you this rose. So long as the  
roses bloom, I will always love you. As long you have this garden, I will  
always be with you. No matter what will happen."

Tom felt Harry's hand on his. They sat like that for a long time. Hand on  
hand. Then the young boy took the rose. He looked at it a little, and then  
hugged it carefully. Behind him, he heard Tom walk away. Harry turned around  
and saw his love write something on a piece of paper and hide it in a hole in  
one of the trees. Then, he walked out of the garden. It was time for him to  
go. Harry hugged the rose a little more, and felt the tears come. They ran  
down his cheeks and on to his green robe where they made ugly spots.  
"Yes, my love. I will wait."

The war last longer than anyone thought it would be. Woman, children and  
weary old men, sat home and waited for husbands, fathers and brothers to come  
home. Some of them were doomed to never come home, Tom was one of them. Harry  
sat home, and thought of his dead love. His year old daughter was lying in her  
crib. Her father found a woman after he heard Tom was dead, and moved to a  
peaceful village with his new wife. Some months lather, Laura was born. Harry  
was glad she looked like him, instead of her mother. His black hair and green  
eyes and his milk toned skin.

He walked to Laura and petted her cheek. The baby stirred a little, but  
continued to sleep. Harry smiled, and then he remembered Tom and how he  
touched his cheek, soft like a rose. A single tear ran down Harry's cheek.  
Hurriedly he dried away the tear. His life had to continue. Right after Harry  
heard Tom was dead, he was so sad that he sad yes to the first woman that had  
cared for him. Luckily for him, Ginny was a nice woman, right now, she was in  
the garden to pick flowers for him. She always picked red roses. Why? Because  
he told her that that was the only flower he liked. She didn't care why, so  
long as he was happy.

But, he would never be really truly happy again. Without thinking twice  
about it, he ran out of the house and in to the stable. Rapido, his black  
horse, stood eating when Harry ran into his stall and pulled him out. Fast as  
any one can be, he jumped onto him and together they galloped away. Behind him  
he heard his wife ask him where he was going, he didn't answer.

Hours later, they ran into the garden. It was just like he remembered it.  
Trees and flowers in full bloom and ducks and fish that swam in the clear blue  
water. A couple of meters away, was the rose bush. The same bush that Tom have  
give him the rose from. It was still blooming. Harry jumped down from Rapido,  
walked over to it and kneeled down. He reached out and touched one of them. It  
was soft, and was he fantasizing or did he felt his loves touch? He lifted  
herself up and walked to the same tree Tom had hid the paper. Harry reached in  
for the paper, pulled it out and began to read it. Tears of happiness and  
sadness rained down his cheeks.

My Love's like a red, red rose  
that's newly sprung in June;  
My Love's like the melody  
that's sweetly played in tune.  
As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,  
So deep in love am I;  
And I will love thee still, my dear,  
Till a' the seas gang dry:  
Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear,  
And the rocks melt wi' the sun;  
I will love thee still, my dear,  
While the sands o' life shall run.  
And fare thee well, my only Love,  
and fare thee well awhile!  
And I will come again, my Love,  
Tho' it ware ten thousand mile.

Thank you so much, YourBlackRose for the beta reading.


End file.
